


a sacrifice in shed skin

by ElasticElla



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (fdtd), (shadowhunters), Blood Drinking, Crossover Pairings, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mild Gore, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Season/Series 02, mentioned camille/magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille has heard the rumors of culebras of course, another breed of vampires closer to snakes south of the border. Of vampires with unique gifts, who could wear the skins of those eaten like tricksters, better suited to be gods than downworlders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a sacrifice in shed skin

**Author's Note:**

> for katie <3
> 
> so unless i missed it, the titty twister was never given a specific location beyond mexico. so i went further south than it probably is for language reasons/making kisa's first language chicomuceltec b/c I wanted a currently dead language that started close to when she was born... which also might(?) deage kisa to one thousand years old. idk i need a timeline

Camille has heard the rumors of culebras of course, another breed of vampires closer to snakes south of the border. Of vampires with unique gifts, who could wear the skins of those eaten like tricksters, better suited to be gods than downworlders. Of culebras who lived outside the clave's reach, and ruled over mundanes, slaughtering whenever they wished, not bothering with glamours. Camille had always ignored the whispers, across the ocean she called them a power fantasy and in New York, well, she always was busy running the old clan to give much thought to stories. 

Except, now she has no clan, only a collection of dedicated fledglings. And one of them, her rising favorite Ash, has brought her a legend, a goddess. 

Kisa isn't what she expects. She seems more human than anything else, fallible and selfish and always trying to do the right thing, ignoring costs. It's the last part that trips Camille up, reminding her too much of Magnus. (Her eyes glow too, but they're more snake than cat.) 

Without permission, Camille's mouth invites Kisa to stay and she blames the recent nostalgic reunion with her sometimes lover.

“Just until they forget about me,” Kisa says.

And Camille wants to laugh, hasn't known her for more than a blink and knows she can't be forgotten, is the material of song and tale and prayer. But there's something soft about the goddess, something that makes her say:

“As long as you catch your own food, you're welcome here.”

Kisa's face twists into not quite a smile or frown, and she's nodding. “Okay.” 

.

Kisa takes the only guest room with a window, and Camille doesn't allow herself to ask. She doesn't want to get tangled up in a goddess-

...well. That's not even a little true. 

But she _shouldn't_.

.

There are very few rules Camille holds herself to. The one that matters is: _don't love a mortal or someone you could never overpower_.

A few hundred years later, and she still has trust issues.

Mother would be proud.

.

The problem is Camille _likes_ Kisa, genuinely enjoys her company. She's a beautiful mess of contradictions, and her knees go weak, try to crumple around her. Kisa's open in a way Camille couldn't dream of being- accepts everything she's done without wasting her breath on regret. Camille wonders if it's part of being a goddess, of not considering past what-ifs and could-have-beens. 

“Can you feel them?” Camille asks one night as they stalk a mundane she's been calling _Pedo Peter_ in her head. Kisa asked her to show her the best hunting grounds for scum, and she couldn't pass up playing the gracious hostess. 

“When they pray to you, do you feel or hear it?” Camille clarifies. 

“No,” Kisa pronounces slowly, and they both watch Peter wave down the bartender for 'one last drink before the road'. “I'm not a real goddess. Man-made.” 

“All the strongest deities are,” Camille says, but it's the wrong thing to say, Kisa's face going flat. And then Peter has changed his mind, dropping some bills and heading out before Camille can figure out how to fix it. 

“Let's get him,” Kisa says, and Camille has him in the nearby alley in a blink. Her speed is the one thing she has on Kisa, the one thing that could make it okay to- _no_. 

Camille doesn't wait on ceremony, sinking her teeth into his neck. He tastes like low-end vodka: sharp and bitter, but doable after a few mouthfuls. Kisa joins on the other side, drinking far faster, and draining him near instantly. 

Camille hides the body in a dumpster, will have Ash take care of it later. Kisa flickers into and out of Peter's form, another myth Camille thought couldn't be true. She hasn't felt envy in ages, not since Magnus sucked away her strength so simply and she dreamed of siphoning away the world. (Blood doesn't give power, it only sates hunger, and never fully.)

.

Kisa likes biting in sex even more than Camille. 

She should have taken it as a warning sign, rather than a belated show of fate she didn't believe in. 

(Kisa's blood is just as enchanting as the rest of her- far older and colder than anyone Camille's ever tasted. She tastes like the night sky itself: heavy darkness and billions of pinpricks of light.) 

.

“I thought the anger would fade after I killed him,” Kisa confesses one night. They're naked in Camille's new bed- Kisa hates caskets- and Kisa's playing with her hair, running her fingers through over and over. 

“He took everything. He ripped my mother tongue from me, turned it into a language of blood and sacrifice and death. The only word I remember,” Kisa pauses, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “ _chan_.” 

Camille doesn't ask yet, holds Kisa's other hand. The question isn't about the word though, it's if Kisa wants to learn a new language. Camille knows how cathartic shedding a tongue can be, imagines Kisa's voice might be sweeter in something brand new. 

“It means snake.” Kisa's eyes close, a cold smile on her lips. “And then, I thought if I just burned all my skin away, maybe, maybe his memory wouldn't be able to touch me anymore.” 

Camille's body freezes, and she feels like a fool. Kisa had already hinted at her past, but Camille had failed to connect the dots to- _fuck_ , she doesn't know what to do. 

“I'm glad you killed him,” she finally says. 

“Me too.” 

.

Kisa says she's not a savior, but that's not what the saved say about her. 

Camille honestly doesn't care how her dinner is sourced, but if her drinking tainted blood makes Kisa happy, she'll rid the world of anyone Kisa deems bad. (Kisa's been spending less time burning her skin away; Camille hopes, hell _prays_ , it means his memory is dying.)

The world begins to turn upside down as Valentine comes out of the shadows, and she and Kisa escape across oceans, land in the Himalayas to start anew. (Camille sheds her rule on a rainy day, tells Kisa she loves her upon a mountain scattered with frozen bodies.)


End file.
